if you can't cook, stay out of the kitchen
by xIrelandx
Summary: prompt: apollo is trying some new recipes and failing horribly. Phoenix helps fix the mess, in more ways than one (EYEBROW WIGGLE)


"Shit." Batter was everywhere, splattered all over the kitchen. The cake batter had turned out way too thick, and had dried almost immediately upon contact with the cabinets and sink.

There was a burning smell coming from behind him. Apollo could feel blood drain from his cheeks to his stomach. He frantically shoved aside the print-outs of recipes, the candles he'd taken out in advance, the matches he'd had to use to light the stovetop. He sighed in relief. It wasn't the plug for the mixer.

Now what -? "Fuck!" The chicken in the oven! Apollo grabbed the oven mitts from the sideboard and heaved the over door open. The chicken wasn't quite ablaze, but it was a damn near thing. The skin was blackened all over, and the opening of the door sent a wave of heavy smoke flooding into Apollo's mouth, nose, eyes, and his ears. That was weird, were ears normally affected when -

"Dammit!" That wasn't his ears ringing, it was the smoke alarm. The sprinkler system activated, raining down over the kitchen. Apollo was thankful that the sprinklers in the other rooms didn't go off as well - Trucy would kill him if her magic equipment got wet.

Apollo went around and opened every window the apartment had, answering the phone and trying to keep his cool while explaining to a very disgruntled fireman what, exactly, had happened over there. A man came over to help turn the sprinklers off, staring and shaking his head at Apollo. He couldn't figure out why the man was looking at him quite the way he was, until he brushed a hand off on his apron. It was pink and frilly.

"Oh, whatever," he grumbled. What some homophobic jerkoff thought about him was the last of his worries. His boyfriend and younger sister were going to be home soon, and he somehow managed to massively fuckup the dinner he had been attempting to make. It was their two-year anniversary, and he was determined to do this on his own. Normally he was a very good cook…

Apollo ran his eyes over the recipe he'd printed out from the internet cookbook. He'd done everything the internet chef had suggested. Today was, he guessed, just not his day. He was definitely not going to give this guy a high rating.

"Polly, I'm home!" Phoenix laughed at his own dumb joke. Apollo sighed, trying to collect his thoughts.

"Hey Nick," he called. "Listen, don't -" he didn't get a chance to finish, to ask his boss/slash/boyfriend to stay out in the living room for…god, this would take hours.

Phoenix walked in through the opened kitchen door, his eyes going comically wide. He had to rub them and do a double-take, looking out into the hallway and back into the kitchen again. "Holy hell, Apollo. What did you do to my kitchen?"

Maybe he'll forget all about what today is. Apollo groaned, rubbing his forehead. "I tried to make us dinner." He waved his arms around, indicating the whole kitchen. "Ta-da," he said sarcastically.

Phoenix shook his head, sighing. "I thought Athena managed to talk you out of that."

"Well excuse me for trying to do something romantic for our anniversary!" Apollo snapped. He got up from where he'd been sitting at the kitchen table, jerking the apron off from over his head.

"You know that's not what I meant, Apollo." Apollo wasn't listening, soaping up and sponge to try and clean the cream-coloured sludge from the wall. "Apollo." Some paint was beginning to chip off of the wall, flecks landing in the basin beneath. "Polly." Where was the water coming from? Oh. Apollo's eyes. "'Pollo."

Phoenix put his hands on Apollo's shoulders, turning him around. He didn't try to make the younger man face him, realizing how embarrassed he was. "When has using my kitchen for anything ever been a good idea?" Apollo could think of one time, when Trucy was at school, but that had been a decidedly non-cooking use and very much not the point. "Get your head out of the gutter," Phoenix growled playfully.

"Yeah, okay… my bad." Apollo rubbed the back of his head.

"Besides, I've already made reservations." Phoenix smirked, pushing some of Apollo's disheveled hair back behind his ear.

"Oh?" His curiosity was piqued. "Where?"

"Mmm." Phoenix kissed his boyfriend's forehead, his nose, and softly, his lips. "We've still got some time."

"That's - that's not," Apollo swallowed. "That's not an answer to my question, Nick."

"Don't worry about it." Apollo didn't really trust that smirk. For all he knew, Phoenix would be taking them to a kid's restaurant, or a strip club. Phoenix's idea of what was romantic was not always the same as what Apollo would think romantic was. But here they were, in a filthy kitchen, Apollo totally covered in cake batter, and Phoenix Wright was rubbing his sides and making him weak in the knees.

"Time and place," Apollo muttered. "Trucy will be home soon."

"Sent her off to visit her mother for the weekend," Phoenix whispered against his neck. If it wasn't for the hot breath so close to his ear, Apollo would have been embarrassed. He could almost see Trucy rolling her eyes, because subtle was the last thing Phoenix was. "Come on, Apollo," he urged. "Why don't we go into the bedroom and…get you cleaned up?"


End file.
